On Saturday, I wrote about my parents’ attitude toward skin color (loving, but in an “it-doesn’t-matter-so-don’t-talk-about-it” sort of way). Now I have to ask myself, how much of their discomfort talking about race rubbed off on me?
I am white, with a white son and two Korean daughters. I guess I’d better get comfortable talking about it quick.
I wrote a poem for my first daughter called “My Beautiful Caramel-Colored Daughter”. I absolutely love her smooth, golden-brown skin and sparkling black eyes. I love the way the light rosy blush on my youngest’s cheek looks against her light tan face. I love seeing the girls wear colors I could never wear because they made me look pale and washed out.
I’ve tried to talk naturally about skin color in front of the kids. We talked about how their skin reminds me of brown sugar (and reminds their brother of peanut butter). We talked about the reason for differences being the amount of melanin that produces pigment. We noted that Meg was lighter than her classmate Tanisha and darker than her classmate Kieran.
I have to admit that this “naturalness” isn’t completely natural. I have to remind myself to talk naturally. It’s a little bit like when my son’s pediatrician advised using anatomically-correct names for private parts. It felt a bit odd.
My kids love the South American song “Brown Girl in the Ring” that’s on several collections of children’s international music. I remember the first time I heard it, my natural reaction was discomfort—we shouldn’t be calling attention to someone’s color! I don’t even like referring to myself as white, usually saying Irish-American or something similar, because we shouldn’t call attention to someone’s color!
I often write “Euro-American” for white (my ancestors were from nowhere near the Caucasus Mountains) and African-American, Korean-American, etc. for others. I think it makes sense to put the emphasis on the location of ancestry rather than skin color. (And then I don’t have to deal with the disagreement of scholars over whether Black and White should be capitalized or not.) I’ve also wondered at the term “people of color”, thinking “isn’t white a color too?” I do use the term though, understanding that the social experience is different than that of whites/Euro-Americans.
I did, though, buy the song and play it often for the kids, singing “Brown Girl” for them and telling them the song is for them. I want them to be proud of being a brown girl.
I know I should not only instill pride in my daughters, but also prepare them for attitudes they’ll encounter later. I’ve written before about my attempts to do this, and the reluctance a lot of us adoptive mothers had at the idea.
After all, it’s not my comfort that matters here. Also, I will become more comfortable talking about it by talking about it. That will benefit me at least as much as it does my daughters.
Please see these related blogs:
How Do My Adopted Kids Think About Skin Color?
Other Kids’ Reactions to My Adopted Kids’ Skin Color
Would they Have Done That to Me?